Page 126 of Affair

“It would appear that most of the staff has already fled to safety. We passed no one on the staircase, so I think it’s safe to assume that none of the servants feels inclined to rescue the master of the house.”

“As Morgan observed, it’s very difficult to get dependable staff these days.”

They reached the front door and stepped out onto the steps.

“There’s no one around.” Charlotte peered into the shadows. “Which way shall we go? I have no idea where we are.”

“Neither do I, but the flames are certain to draw someone’s attention soon. There must be farmers and tenants in the district. Let’s make for the road.” He took Charlotte’s hand and started down the steps.

“Baxter.”

The alarm in her voice brought him up short. He whirled, the small penknife in his hand.

A dark figure loomed in the doorway.

“Here now, where d’ye think you’re goin’?”

The man raised his hand. Even without the aid of his single eyeglass, Baxter had no difficulty recognizing the shape of a pistol.

“Good heavens,” Charlotte said. “You’re the villain who tried to stop us outside Mrs. Heskett’s house.”

“Aye, and there’ll be none of yer tricks this time.”

“We’re of no use to you now,” Baxter said.

“If the magician went to all that trouble to get hold of ye, I expect yer valuable. Reckon I’ll take ye with me until I see what’s what.”

“Your master is dead in one of those chambers at the top of the house,” Baxter said calmly. “There is no profit in this night’s work. Be off with you before the mansion burns down around your ears.”

“Must be some money in it somewhere,” the villain whined.

Baxter sighed. “If it’s merely money you’re after, we may be able to come to an agreement.”

The villain brightened. “A bargain, sir.”

Before Baxter could offer him a sum of money to seal the deal, a pistol cracked in the darkness behind him.

With a cry of surprise and pain, the villain clutched at his shoulder and reeled back into the hall.

“Baxter. Miss Charlotte.” Hamilton’s voice rang through the night. “Are you all right?”

Baxter turned and raised his broken spectacles to his eye. Hamilton and Ariel rushed toward them from the shelter of a small grove of trees.

Hamilton held a pistol in each hand. His cravat fluttered around his throat in an extremely rakish manner. His boots gleamed. His curls were ruffled from the night breeze. There was an air of exuberant excitement about him that was unmistakable. Baxter had seen that same look in his father.

“Charlotte.” Ariel flew to her. “Oh, thank God, I’ve been so frightened. Hamilton arrived just after those terrible men overpowered the Runners and kidnapped you. We managed to follow you in his new carriage. It is amazingly swift, you know.”

“How clever of you.” Charlotte wrapped her arms very tightly around Ariel. “Clever and brave.”

Hamilton shoved his pistols into his belt. “Sorry to be so late in arriving, brother. Lost the trail a few miles back. Took forever to locate a farmer who remembered hearing a carriage go past his house. He told us about this place and said no one was allowed near it except the servants. Very mysterious, he said. Figured it had to be the magician’s haunt.”

“Brilliant deduction.” Baxter grinned at the dashing image his brother presented. “I do believe that what they say about the earls of Esherton is true.”

Some of Hamilton’s excitement faded. “What’s that?”

“They do everything with style.”

Hamilton blinked in surprise and then he burst into laughter. “It’s in the blood, brother. All of the St. Ives men have style. It just took me a while to notice yours. Quite unique.”

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